Title: Dads
Characters: Jolyne Kujo, Giorno Giovanna
Author note: dads
Requested - Christmas 2013
"Aren't you a bit young to be in a bar?" The girl said to him as she sat down at the counter ungracefully.
Christmas was a time to celebrate with friends and family. No wonder the bar was deserted. The dim yellow lights illuminated her face softly. He found her quite attractive, but her hairstyle was just too unconventional. Compared to her, he had to admit that he looked quite young.
"No, what makes you think that?" He said a little offended, putting his glass to his lips.
"For one," she said, raising a finger up to indicate to the bartender that she wanted the good stuff from the top shelf, "you look like you're fifteen." She brushed her braid off of her shoulder.
His eyes caught sight of her hair, confused that it was tied up in the same manner as his. He felt self-conscious, but replied confidently. "As a matter of fact, I am."
The bartender gently placed a block of ice into a glass, not caring for a single moment that his customer was underage.
"What?" The girl exclaimed loudly.
"Actually, I own this place." He said, sipping his drink again. He earned no response from her, so he spoke on. "My name's Giorno Giovanna. I own this entire area."
Speechless, the girl grabbed the drink from out of the bartender's hands. She downed it with such speed and ferocity that Giorno didn't have the time to make another comment. "Another," she said.
"What are you doing here then? In my bar?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be out celebrating Christmas with your family?"
"Family? Tell me about it." she sighed, watching as the bartender poured the reeking brown liquid into a new glass for her. "I'm here to forget about them."
"Hm?" Giorno leaned his elbow on the counter, interested.
"What about you?"
"I have no family to celebrate with," he chuckled softly, gesturing to the bartender. "At least I've no idea what happened to them." Not wanting to destroy the mood, he smiled. "Drink up. A bar's a good place to confide in strangers. Plus it's cheaper than a therapist if you can control yourself."
"Jolyne Kujo. You can call me Jolyne if you'd like. It's nice to meet you, Giorno."
"Jolyne, eh?" he replied, tapping his fingers on the counter gently. "Drinks are on me tonight. Order whatever you want."
"Are you sure? I'm a complete stranger yet..."
"I own this entire area, remember? They won't charge me since I protect them." The comment made Jolyne raise her eyebrow but he paid her no mind. It was just a simple fact. He turned his head and watched as the bartender placed the glass gently on the counter. "Don't drink too much though. If you get too messed up, who knows what could happen. You're placing your trust in a stranger."
Jolyne suppressed a shiver. The boy's charisma was quite something. "All I've got to do is outdrink you then."
"Sounds like a challenge."
"It is."
An hour or so later, after Giorno and Jolyne had indulged in a couple of drinks, they went back to talking about their families. Jolyne had become quite vocal. She started complaining about her father.
"He's a complete asshole. Never here for the family. I don't remember him ever celebrating my birthday with me. He just left mom to take care of me. Goddamn bastard." She smashed a fist on the counter with such force that it seemed like the glasses jumped up in the air for a moment. "Not my fucking fault I was 'led astray,' it's just cause he was never home!"
She mentioned to him that she'd gotten in trouble with the police a couple of times and he nodded silently. Children making trouble outside of the house to get noticed by their parents was common. Lots of them did that for the attention they never got when they were young. Yet Jolyne's father never came home, even after she was jailed.
"So, what about you, buddy? I don't assume your dad's in the mafia or somethin'. Wouldn't surprise me since we're in Italy and all. That's probably why you own this place." Jolyne asked drowsily. The drinks had gotten to her, and she was swinging a glass back and forth dramatically. Thankfully it was empty.
"It would be simple to say that," Giorno smiled yet again. "But no. I left my parents out of my own free will. My biological father is... probably dead. He spent a night with my mother, she had me, and then married some Italian guy. So I'm not actually Italian, but I was raised here, and that's enough to call me one."
He looked at the rows and rows of drink behind the counter. They seemed to belong there together. There was some sort of harmony in that, even though there were different shapes and sizes and labels. That's how he felt with Passione. Different people from different backgrounds blending with each other. That's where his home was.
"My stepfather is an abusive asshole and my mother neglected me when I was young." Giorno said. "I decided to take things into my own hands from then on."
"So that's why you're a little mafia boy at the young age of fifteen, ain't ya?" Jolyne said, downing another. At this point, she'd had so much that it must all taste like water.
"By the way, organized crime groups are prevalent in every country. You just don't call it the mafia in, say, Japan. You call them the yakuza."
"Right, right." The girl pushed her glass away and crossed her arms on the counter. "Tell me about your biological father." She lay her head in her arms and looked at him. Despite her eyes clouded by the influence of alcohol, her full attention, or what remained of it, was directed towards him.
"You probably won't believe me but," Giorno sighed, "from what I recall, he lived for about 100 years. He was a vampire too, I hear. His name was Dio Brando. He's done a lot of nasty things to people and he's killed a whole bunch too without remorse. Probably worse than the mafia but I've never met him. The only thing I have to remind me of him is an old picture. I keep it in my wallet, I just don't know why."
He wasn't sure how much he should divulge to his new acquaintance, but she'd probably forget it when she woke up the next day. Speaking of which, she had already nodded off on the bar counter. Her eyes were shut firmly and her lips were parted slightly.
Giorno carried her in his arms and lay her on a couch in the back. He picked up a tablecloth and covered her with it. He told the bartender to let her sleep there. He left her a note, telling her to lock up the place after she leaves and to slip the keys into any mailbox, coupled with a spare of the keys to the bar. He watched her sleep for a few more moments. She was far too trusting, but so was he. He hoped that she wouldn't raid the shelves of their drink.
Despite their long talk, he found out that they had almost nothing in common. Somehow they'd managed to get along just fine, and he appreciated that. When he talked to her, it felt like he was with the rowdy members of Passione again. It was funny how he'd left headquarters to get away from his gang and then find someone who'd remind him of them.
"Goodnight, stranger. Merry Christmas to you."
Maybe they'd meet again.
End.